


two minutes before you go to sleep

by orphan_account



Category: Narnia - Fandom, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-30
Updated: 2009-11-30
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:32:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Pevensie meets Peter Pan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two minutes before you go to sleep

He had never flown in Narnia, but now, hovering miles over London in the dark, with the wind in his hair and clouds curling around his feet, Peter Pevensie recognized the feeling perfectly. Magic tingled and prickled over his skin, as if his entire body had gone to sleep and was only just waking up. He breathed in the cold, clean air and remembered a draft of cold winter air in a closed wardrobe, fur coats and pine trees scratching at his skin, the first terrifying glimpse of Narnia.

"Come on!" Peter Pan was waiting for him, impatient as ever, Tink a shimmering star over his shoulder. "We have to go before it gets light!"

"I'm coming," Peter said, and he took one last look at London, a glowing patchwork of streets and windows, punctuated with patches of darkness where the bombs had left their mark.

Lucy was down there, fast asleep in her room, and he wondered if they could go back and get her, or Susan, or Edmund. But Peter had said there was no room for more lost boys, and there certainly wasn't any room for _girls_ , or _mothers_ , not in Neverland. He was tickled at the idea of another Peter, though.

"Old Hook'll _never_ see that coming!" he'd crowed, perched in Peter's window like a strange, agile dwarf.

 _You have no idea_ , Peter thought. He looked up from London, took a deep breath, and plunged into the sky after Pan.

*

When the clouds cleared and Neverland appeared in the distance, set in the sea like a tiny, glittering gem, something in his chest tightened so painfully that he lost his balance and plummeted out of the sky. Pan followed him down, turning somersaults and laughing gleefully at Peter's predicament, and he caught Peter by the ankle just before they hit the water.

Peter had seen lovelier sights; he had seen rivers in full spate at the end of winter, and he had seen naiads dancing in the spring. He had crested high mountains at the head of armies, and watched as the sun painted rainbows over distant peaks. He had sailed on endless seas, flanked by mermaids and sea-folk, and he had danced with Bacchus on summer nights.

He had seen lovelier sights, and known greater worlds, but Neverland was still enchanting. Almost as soon as he'd broken through the clouds, he'd known he could never stay there. It was too familiar, and too strange. Everyone here was young, and careless, and adventures were just that- almost never dangerous, not _really_ , because what child could imagine the horrible finality of death? Peter was too old, and he had seen too much of life- carried a king's burdens, lost loyal subjects and good soldiers- he'd grown up too quickly to stay in Neverland.

Lucy might have liked it better. Lucy might have stayed.

*

He spent most of his time rambling around Neverland, or sitting and watching the mermaids in their lagoon. He felt lost, here, restless and off-balance without the weight of a sword on his belt and without a crown on his head. The Lost Boys wanted him to help them in their battle against Captain Hook, but he would not show them how to defeat the pirate. He didn't want to sully this dream-world with with the blood and devastation of real war.

Instead, he told them stories about a world that was locked in winter and under the rule of a powerful witch, and about four children who defeated her and lived happily ever after.

"Did they hunt down the lion?" Curly asked him, leaning in over the fire.

"No," Peter said. "They couldn't have caught him even if they'd wanted to. He's- he was a _wild_ lion."

"We should have a hunt tomorrow," Peter Pan said. "There's all sorts of horribly dangerous creatures in the woods. The Indians can help us!" His eyes were gleaming, and the Lost Boys chimed in enthusiastically.

Peter smiled at their excitement, but he didn't join in. "Peter?" Pan said. "Are you all right? You seem awfully down."

"I want to go home," Peter said. "I'm too old to fit in here, Peter Pan. Neverland makes me miss my home."

Pan pouted, and for a moment he looked almost as if he was about to burst into tears. "Fine," he said, and he kicked dirt onto the fire so that the den was plunged into darkness.

Peter went out to sleep under the the stars. He dreamed of the Lantern Waste, and the white stag in the woods, and the look on Susan's face when they fell out of the wardrobe.

The next day, they left the Lost Boys sharpening stakes and planning traps while they flew away home. Pan was sullen and silent, and Tinkerbell's sparkle was a little duller than before. Peter took it in his stride- it was, after all, the third time he'd been booted out of the world by a bad-tempered king. He had no claim on Neverland. He would not miss it.

And perhaps, when he landed gracelessly in his own room in London, he would miss Narnia a little less than before.


End file.
